September 16, 1945 ~ August 6, 2023
Remembered by John Anderson – Class of 1963
RIP Bob Baverstock, Wantagh High School, Class of ’63
I wrote this in StoryWorth in Feb 2020. Seems apropriate tribute for today:
“An Orangutan just bit me! Quick, get the serum!” This whispered exhortation came from the seat behind me in the middle of Algebra class in 1959. I tried to stifle a laugh, which only made it worse. Tears welled up in my eyes, mucus seeped from my nose, and finally I had to laugh out loud.
“John, would you share what is so funny with the class?” Mr. Stout asked in his basso profundo voice. I managed to cough out an apoplectic “Nothing.”, which was greeted with a “See me after class.” And with that little vignette a friendship solidified that continues today. I hear from Bob Baverstock weekly. We talk about matters inconsequential and serious , and I always leave our phone conversation with a smile.
In ninth grade, Bob was one of the cool people. I was not. I was a “brain” who really didn’t want to be one. He was a good athlete, funny, and “in with the in crowd.” He convinced me to go out for lacrosse. We discovered that we both love to fish. Early in our friendship, we also found that we both liked to write parodies of popular songs, a peculiar obsession that continues to this day. We also both had an encyclopedic knowledge and appreciation for Doo-wop rock and roll.
During our high school years, Bob opted to leave the “in crowd” in favor of being his own person. He had his own fashion style and moved comfortably among all the Wantagh High social strata, from future felons to �aspiring Ivy Leaguers.
He took after-school jobs rather than play sports, in order to have money in his pocket. If I was to compare him to a TV character, he’s the closest thing to “The Fonz” that I know. Our high school adventures deserve their own chronicle. Suffice it to say that we are living proof of the statement that “God’s greatest miracle is an adult male.”
I was with Bob the night he met Jan, his wife of 52 years. We were in each other’s weddings.
We went as couples to the infamous “Garden Party” concert at Madison Square Garden, and then our paths diverged. We moved to Croton. After scratching an itch to be his own boss owning a fishing station, Bob and his family moved to Madison, Wisconsin, where he had attended college. The Andersons moved to North Carolina. We stayed semi-connected through a string of Christmas cards and the occasional e-mail.

Then, in the late 90’s, a business convention brought Erin, the twins and I to Washington DC.
Bob and Jan were living in Bethesda. We all met for lunch, and our friendship picked up seamlessly as if the previous 30 years were an afternoon. That said, since that date we’ve only seen each other on two occasions. The Baverstocks moved to Los Cruzes, NM, and then, in part at my suggestion, they settled in Wilmington, NC. We dropped in on Bob there in 2006, and sometime later, he and Jan spent a weekend with us in Waxhaw.
Life dealt Bob some funky cards. He’s had multiple surgeries and tells me that he’s always in pain. His beloved dog died. He no longer drives. And yet….
The more things change, the more they remain the same. We talk every week to ten days or so. When we get on the phone, a.) I know we will be on for a while, and b) we always end up laughing. Bob worried his long-term memory leaving him because of anesthesia and pain killers. His personal cure for this is to concentrate to remember people, places, songs and events, so when we talk, I almost always get a “remember this….”, and off we go down memory lane. At this point in life it’s very good to talk to an old friend. “
Our last phone conversation was last Wednesday
Below:
Bob and Zach at the beach in Wilmington, circa 2019
Bob and Jan’s wedding, July 20,1968
